Meet Me In Paris
by Samitballi
Summary: She left. He misses her. She's traveling. She wants this. He understands. They replaced her. She's irreplaceable. She left. He followed.
1. She Left

**Author's Note**: It's been a good while since I've written NCIS fanfiction but I have to write to help my heart heal with this whole Cote thing. It's unbelievably, ridiculously, absurdly short but regardless I've decided to post this story. Hope you like it!

Enjoy!

* * *

She left. She's really gone this time. It's a little bit easier to digest knowing it was her choice and that she is at least safe. But it still hurts. There's something missing; a piece of the NCIS puzzle is gone. And try as they might, the team can't fill the empty space. Her desk is still there across from Tony's but she's not there. Her plants, her folders, her pends and her flags aren't there. She gave him one of her flags before she left, it sits in his pen cup proudly proclaiming Tony's soft spot for Israel. Or at least for an Israeli. But it's not the same.

He misses her. Which is ridiculous because they still talk every now and then. Mostly emails and postcards. Lots of postcards. She sends him one from every new place she visits and he keeps them all, tacks them to his fridge and all over his desk.

She's traveling. She's finally sight-seeing on her own terms and satisfying her inner childish wanderlust. A lot of the places she's going are places she's been before only this time her only mission is to find Abby the best souvenir. She sends them straight to the lab along with a postcard for Tony and a letter for McGee. It's not enough but it's all that she can do.

She wants this. It hurts but it's for the best. It's what she wants- what Eli wanted. NCIS was a great time in her life, one she'll never forget or regret, but it's time for her to love life not just live it. It's time to do all the things she couldn't before. It's Ziva's time to grow fat and old and blissfully happy, the way she used to feel guilty for wanting.

Tony understands. He believes her when she says it's for the best, wants this for her too; but he wants to be there with her. Tony wants to hop from flight to flight, boat to boat and train to train alongside her. The pictures she sends are just of things- building, walls, skies. None of them have people, none of them have life.

Except for one. She sent it to Gibbs last week, the only thing she's sent him since she started traveling. Though Gibbs isn't angry she left, Ziva still doesn't know how to talk to him without feeling guilty for making the team's temporary resignation permanent. So instead she sent him the only picture she took of herself during her travels. Off the coast of Saint-Tropez she found a boat called the S.S. Gibbson. She strategically aimed the photo so she was in front of "on" and all the viewer saw S.S. Gibbs. She took the photo once then decided she looked too serious so she took it again, this time making a fishy face. Gibbs pinned it to his desk as a casual reminder that no matter where she went she'd always be apart of their team.

They replaced her. Tried filling the void, really, but everyone knew Agent Torres was just a temp. No one was meant for that desk except for Ziva David. Everyone realized they'd have to fill it eventually, if just because Vance would soon insist they do so, but they were taking their time. Agent after agent floated through the bullpen trying to take Ziva's place and failing miserably. Tony didn't even bother giving them a hard time- they weren't even worth his jokes.

She's irreplaceable. No matter what, no matter how hard they tried, Ziva would always be on team Gibbs. No one could take her place. But she didn't want that place anymore, didn't want that desk anymore. So they finally got someone to take it. Agent Morrison is a damn good agent. She does the work she's told to do and then some. Gibbs really likes her and McGee shares a geekly bond with her. But Tony doesn't talk to her much. He keeps his distance , keeping her at a very professional arms length.

It's self preservation. He can't open himself up the way he did for her. Maybe because it took them so long to get to this point, maybe because she's the only one to try so hard, doesn't matter. What matters is the only woman to ever change Tony DiNozzo isn't here anymore. She left.


	2. They're Hurt

**Author's Note**: Thanks for the positive response, guys! I forgot to mention that this is going to be a multi-chapter story. So yes, Paris will come in to play shortly :)

Enjoy!

* * *

It's been a month. Abby keeps getting packages, McGee keeps getting letter and even Gibbs got another photo, but Tony hasn't gotten anything. No postcards, no emails, nothing. They've lost contact and he's not even sure how. He can't seem to find the right words so his emails get shorter and her postcards don't look the same as they used to. When she first left she'd doodle on the back of the postcards, little sketches of local landmarks and smiley faces along with a few paragraphs about wherever she was. But the sketches went away and the sentences got shorter then eventually they stopped all together.

He's worried. He doesn't want to be, hates acting like an idiot, but can't help it. She's not talking to him and that scares him even though he knows she's okay. The last letter to McGee said her last three encounters with TSA were bad and that she was behind schedule (though for her, a schedule was more like a guideline) which could explain her lack of postcards. But if she could write up letters to McGee and send packages to Abby she could send a postcard to Tony. But she's not.

He's hurt. Tony knows he's playing a part in the silence between them but he's still hurt. After everything, to have it end like this is...anticlimactic. There should be more, there's gotta be more. But they are both too scared to come out and say what needs to be said. So the silence continues.

There's still hope. He feels it in his bones even as they crumble under the weight of his depression. As everyone else keeps getting stuff in the mail and he does not, hope fades but doesn't go away. Maybe it's wishful thinking, maybe he's a fool; but Tony isn't giving up hope that there can still be more to his relationship with Ziva. Even if it takes forever he's certain they'll get around to getting together at some point.

They kissed. It wasn't supposed to happen but it just did. Over the months of their resignation there wasn't much to do which lead to a lot of thinking which lead to a lot of drinking which apparently lead to kissing. It was only one kiss- one sloppy, drunken kiss- which made it easier to dismiss as "nothing really". But it was still a kiss. A kiss between Tony and Ziva. And he isn't over it.

He tried. Good God did he ever try. He tried so damn hard to get over it. Gina, Kaylee, Leah and Maggie all helped him try to get over it but every weekend he went home with a new woman he was thinking of Ziva instead. Their lips aren't as full as hers, their hair isn't as soft as hers, their hands don't fit perfectly in his, and they just aren't her. They aren't Ziva.

He needs her. More than he knows, more than he can even comprehend let alone express. She's his other half- better half- and when she's missing part of Tony goes with her. The gentle part of him is with her wherever she is and he's back to mercilessly picking on _everybody_. From McGee to the Ziva replacement agents to Phil the janitor. He's getting on everyone's nerves. Everything is a joke to him but nothing is lighthearted. He's even snapped at Abby (but quickly apologized).

Everybody sees it. Everyone knows what's wrong- knows what's missing. Even Phil, who used to chat with Ziva on nights she stayed late. It didn't matter how much Tony tried to deny it, the truth is painfully obvious. So he stopped trying to hide, stopped pretending. He's mopping around NCIS fully aware of what's missing and equally aware of what was in it's place.

He's getting worse. Abby starts to think it's not gonna get any better for him. She mentions him as smoothly as she possibly can whenever she talks to Ziva on the phone. But even though Abby knows the retired agent cares, Ziva doesn't give the slightest inclination to such.

But she's hurt.


	3. She's in Paris

**Author's Note: **It really is gonna get better...eventually...

* * *

She's in Paris. She hesitated in coming, unsure if she could handle it, but came anyway. It's different without him, not as nice, not as fun. Paris is supposed to be the city of love and romance, for lovers only, but as Ziva walks about the cobblestone streets she feels nothing but loneliness. Everyone around her has someone by their side, holding their hands and kissing them and just being in love. Every day she spends in the romantic city she believes more and more that coming was a bad idea.

But it's not. It's not a bad idea, it can't be bad because as much as it hurts, it also gives her hope. Even though they aren't currently talking, Ziva is full of hope that she will rekindle things with Tony.

In this city. That's her decision and it's final. They're gonna make a change, good or bad, and they're gonna do it right here in Paris. There's too much to talk about, too much unsaid that needs to get thrown down on the table. They'll meet at a bistro and have cafe and talk about all of it. If, in the end, they can't make it work than at least they can move on. They can go on with their lives with the closure of knowing they at least gave it a shot.

That kiss. It wasn't the first time their lips have met but it's the one kiss that changed everything. She's not over it. She can't get over it. The kiss was sloppy and they were drunk but it was the best kiss they've ever shared.

It meant something. They aren't sure what it meant but it meant something- a big something. They should've talked about it, done something about it but of course they didn't. They shoved it down and ignored it so it wouldn't get in the way. Evidently that just made it worse.

She's hurt. She's the one who left but she's hurt. Damaged goods, that's what she's always been and that's okay. She came to terms with the hand life dealt her years ago. But she can't get passed the idea that she'd missed a part of life. Of course she doesn't regret it because, in losing bits of her life, she gave life to others. But still...

She calls him. Caution to the wind, worries cast aside and her heart on her sleeve, she calls him. It's late in D.C. but he's still at NCIS which isn't the least bit surprising. He sounds tired but not from sleep- she sounds the same. They talk only a couple of minutes.

She can't ask. She can't make herself ask him to come to Paris, can't make herself make the first move. She wants to so damn badly. All she can manage to say is that she's in Paris and she's sorry they haven't talked in a while. She wants to tell him to get on the earliest flight- there's one tomorrow, she checked, he can make it- and to meet her tomorrow night. She wants to take that step but she can't. She can't say more than a pathetic goodbye.

They hang up.


	4. Everything Hurts

She called. He's not sure why or what she was trying to tell him but she called and that's a good thing. She didn't say much at all and the whole conversation could barely be considered small talk even but it was a phone call. And it was so very nice to hear her voice again. It'd been so long since they actually spoke to each other- 3 months to be exact but who's counting? She didn't sound right even when she made a quip about the in flight movie being one he showed her. She sounded like she was exhausted from life and Tony was sure he sounded similarly.

They're both tired. Not sleepy, but tired. Life wore them out and their individual depression didn't help. Sometimes Tony's felt like he could sleep for years and still wake up tired. So he didn't sleep much at all. He stayed at NCIS till the wee hours of the morning then came back after grabbing a few hours sleep on his couch. He doesn't sleep in his bed anymore.

That's hers. She slept in it her last night in D.C. because her apartment already sold- sooner than she'd planned. She offered to take the couch but Tony wouldn't have it; he gave her the king size bed he bought just a few months prior and hasn't used it since. The pillow still smells like her shampoo and even though his couch is insanely uncomfortable it's become his new habitat. He's just waiting for her to come back and take that bed again.

She's not here. It only just dawns on him after they hang up that she's genuinely not here. He can't just cross the bullpen and touch her or make her laugh or even pick on her. He can't brush her hair back to make her smile or invade her personal space like they always did. He can't pick on her till she turned on him in that playfully terrifying way of hers.

Suddenly it hurts.

Everything hurts. More than it did yesterday and more than it did this morning. It's killing him not being around her, not having access to her. He'd say she's like a drug but she's not addictive in a bad way. She's just important. Ziva is vital to Tony's happiness. That's the way it's been for a long time and, so long as they worked side-by-side everyday they were fine keeping it platonic. Cause at least they were together. But now that they're apart...

Tony stands up. That's it.

He's done. No more.

He's had it with being exhausted by life. He wants to be exhilarated by it. So he starts gathering his things, grabbing his jacket off the back of his chair and pulling his holster from the desk draw it resides in when not on his hip. But just as he's about to flea, Gibbs walks in.

They freeze. Neither says a word or blinks for a whole minute; they just stand there staring at each other. Tony is certain his boss can tell what he's thinking, knows what he's up to, so now he just needs to wait for Gibbs to give his approval. All he needs is one nod.

Gibbs nods.


	5. He's Packed

He's packed. He doesn't remember packing but he's packed. There's a garment back and a small suitcase by the front door ready to go first thing in the morning. He was able to get a flight at six am with Air France so he finished packing up and tried to get a few hours sleep. Of course sleep didn't come, even as he laid on the couch counting the seconds in his head.

He's excited. He also scared shitless, but mostly excited. He didn't even know where in Paris she was or what was waiting for him there but he was going regardless. Nothing was going to stop him from going to her. Even Ziva herself couldn't stop him this time.

She doesn't know. He didn't even call her to ask where she was or if she even wanted him to come; he'd just surprise her. He'd have to do some special agent work to find her but he was confident it would all work out. As he drove to the airport and went through security he was sure everything would be fine. But then, sitting on the plane, he started having second thoughts.

What's he doing? What the absolute hell is he doing? Suddenly he just wants to get off the damn plane. It's not that bad being without her, he's made it this long he can go a bit longer. She was clearly okay without him- or at least that's the way it seems. She did sound tired on the phone but he didn't know why. She could just be tired from traveling so much, or maybe she'd had a bad day. He truly didn't know. Which made going to Paris seem both vitally important and incredibly stupid. But then again when wasn't Tony's decisions stupid?

The plane landed. It was a seven hour flight but with the six hour time difference Tony didn't get out of the airport until almost nightfall. He grabbed a cab outside that took him straight to his hotel where he checked in and found his room. He didn't bother getting any place nice since he didn't plan on spending much time there over the course of his day. It was just one bed, a dresser and a desk. Under the desk was a mini-fridge and on top of the dresser was a TV but Tony knew he wouldn't use either. Hell, he didn't even unpack.

He's jet-lagged. Seriously jet-lagged. He could probably use a few hours sleep but he's not even that tired. There's a few cups of coffee in his system by the time he's in the room so he's ready to start his investigation. When she called she mentioned she was in Paris but that was all. She didn't say where she was staying or anything so Tony had to start from scratch. He wanted to avoid tracking her credit card because that seemed to invasive- even to Tony- so he headed down to the lobby front desk and asked for a phone book.

He knows her. Better than he knows himself, some might say. So when the concierge handed over the phone book he immediately looked up the numbers of the places he thought she might be. He knew of three hotels she might go to and a few restaurants she might visit. He started with hotels, calling two before getting a confirmation that a Ms. David was in fact staying there. That particular hotel was just a few blocks away from him.

He could go.

He doesn't go.


	6. It's a Mess

Author's Note: So I wrote and edited this chapter yesterday and put it in the Doc Manager here online then completely forgot lol I'm not sure how I managed to think I'd posted it but alas...here we are, a day late lol sorry. Also the poetic nature of the story is gonna change a little because it's hard to write poetic dialog (or at least, realistic poetic dialog) It'll still be short sentences and paragraphs all starting with 2-3 words, there will just be dialog boxes throughout now.

Enjoy!

* * *

It's time. She can't put it off any longer, she's already been in Paris longer than she planned. It's there in the back of her mind the whole time she walks around the city. She knows exactly where it is and how to get there but she just can't make her legs carry her in that direction. She can't go there but she needs to. If she couldn't get Tony to come then she'd at least go to the cafe they went to last time they were in Paris together.

She's leaving tomorrow. This is her last day and she wants to spend it right- getting some semblance of closure. If she's ever going to return to D.C. and see Tony again she needs closure. She needs to go to that damn cafe, sit down, have a cup of coffee and let herself morn the relationship she never got to have with Tony. Maybe she'd even cry a little.

It's done. There's no way to make it work. If she can't even ask him to come and work things out she can't expect it to work. They can't even admit to each other the feelings they both clearly have for each other.

It's a mess. But it's always been their mess. The mess they made for themselves and fueled for so many years. They piled their problems high on each other so they wouldn't have to deal alone. And it worked for the most part. Tony was her security blanket and she his. No matter what Tony was always just a desk away to offer a stupid comment to make her smile and momentarily forget whatever pain she feels. They've always comforted each other in some weird way.

But that's gone. She has to deal with reality. So Ziva takes a sudden left and follows a familiar path to a familiar little cafe. It's exactly the same as the last time she was there- same wicker back chairs and tiny round tables. There's still a postcard cart on the corner that Ziva is tempted to revisit if just to see whether or not Tony would recognize the picturesque postcard or not. The art dealer on the corner has changed but recognition is still there and she wonders if the younger man now occupying that stand isn't perhaps the original owner's son or grandson.

"Puis-je vous aider, mademoiselle?" a woman's voice asks from behind Ziva so she turns towards the sound. There a small Italian woman in a waitress's outfit there looking for an answer but Ziva can't find the words just yet. So she points to the table she once shared with Tony.

"Utilisable?" is all Ziva can manage to ask and the waitress nods. It takes Ziva a second to lower herself to the chair but as soon as she's seated she starts to smile.

She's okay. For right now, she's okay. It doesn't even hurt that bad. In fact it's rather nice. She remembers how Tony came up on that stupid bike of his going on and on about loving Paris and something about artists- she can't remember. She was in a hurry that day because they had a job to do, but right now she can let the wind rustle her hair a little and remember the way he smiled.

It was genuine. He was so happy that morning. They both were, honestly. But Tony...nothing could dampen his spirit that first and last day in Paris.

"Puis-je prendre votre commande, mademoiselle?" the waitress asks, having followed Ziva to her table. There's a ridiculous smile on Ziva's face as she orders the same meal she had on that day years ago. The waitress quickly goes to fetch her coffee and croissant while Ziva dry-runs a hand down her face.

She's alone. Utterly alone in life and everything she does. Hopping from city to city is nice, she loves to travel on her own freewill. But it's lonely. Every new place, every new sight, ever new memory is only hers to remember. She's the only one taking pictures and sampling wines. She's eating every meal alone and returning to her hotel alone.

She's utterly alone. That's her life now, that's just the harsh reality she has to face. So she sucks in a deep breath to calm herself and reaches for her phone. One short phone call can't hurt. So she dials his number- number 2 on her speed dial- and takes a look around while she contemplates whether to hit _Send_ or not. Then she freezes, finger still on the button, and gasps a little.

"Tony?"


	7. This is Real

Author's Note: Sorry this is later than planned. I'm leaving this weekend for vacation and my mind is already at the beach lol However despite the fact that I'm uploading this Tuesday night (Wednesday, essentially) I'm still gonna try my hardest to upload Thursday- Friday the latest (because I leave Saturday)

Remember how I promised things would get better? Well guess what...we're getting there! Woohoo :)

Enjoy!

* * *

He can't sleep. Even in an actual bed, in a new place and country, Tony can't sleep. He is absolutely exhausted and jet lagged but no matter what he tries he still can't get any sleep. He's been running on an accumulated five hours sleep the last few weeks. He's been able to steal a few minutes here and there, maybe an hour or two if he's lucky, but coffee is his main source of energy these days. And he sorely needs a cup. There's a tiny coffee maker in his hotel room but he doesn't even bother with it. He knows the cafe he wants to go to.

Can he? Can he go there after so much time? The corner cafe where they spent their last moments in Paris together seems like sacred ground- much like the hotel they shared. He isn't entirely sure he can sit there alone where they once sat together. But he's already headed that direction before he can stop himself.

He's panicking. Every step he takes closer to the cafe his heart pounds against his chest harder and harder. What if she's there? What if she got the same idea he did and came for morning coffee and a trip down memory lane? Of course the whole purpose of coming to Paris was to find Ziva but suddenly the idea of actually finding her scares him more than anything else. More than bullets and bad guys, more than angry Abby and more than Gibbs without coffee. Because, scary as those things are, they're nothing compared to the mind-numbing fear of putting one's heart on the line. He should stop walking, turn around and go home.

He keeps walking. There's determination in his stride even though his knees are going weak. She's probably not even there.

She's there. As soon as he rounds the corner he sees her. She's sitting at the same table they shared years ago, eating the same food and everything. For a second he's completely convinced it's just his memory painfully reminding him what he missed out on but no...this is real.

She is real. Her hair is wild and curly like it used to be and she's wearing a dress. It's nice to see her in a dress and sandals because it's Ziva completely relaxed, completely care-free, completely at ease, without worrying about looking over her shoulder. She doesn't need to be combat-ready so she isn't. It's a pretty dress made entirely of white cascading layers that compliments every one of her never ending curves. He's reminded for the five billionth time just how radiantly beautiful she is. She lights up the whole block with one smile.

She looks up.

He freezes. Oops. He didn't plan for this. He didn't think of what to say or do when this moment came. He should have at least come up with a way to say hi but even that's not coming to him.

He's completely blank.

"Tony?" He's so glad she initiates contact because he can't feel his lips. Or his tongue. Or his face. Or his body. Her question buys him enough time to suck in a deep breath and take a shaky step forward.

"This seat free?" he asks, gesturing to the chair across from her. She's too shocked to say anything but manages to nod as her eyes sweep over the length of him.

He looks good. Sleep deprived, depressed and disheveled; but also good. But maybe he only looks good to her because she hasn't seen him in so long. Did he always look this good in casual clothes? It's just a gray tee shirt and jeans but he's wearing the hell out of them both.

He sits down. It's a slow and deliberate move, the way he sits before her almost like each step he takes and move he makes could shatter the illusion. But it's not an illusion, it's not his imagination or his memories. He hasn't been shot and therefore having a 'this is what life could be like' type of near death experience. It's all actually happening and suddenly Tony can't help himself. He reaches across the table and touches her arms. His fingers so lightly brush against her skin she barely even feels it- like a ghost of touch. But he feels it, feels the warmth flow from her skin to his and fix him. His fingers are tingly from just that one touch because it's real.

She is real.

This is real.

They're together.


	8. This is Home

It's so surreal. To finally be together after so much heartache and time, it's all so surreal. But no matter how strange it feels, it's the best feeling in the world. There's a lot that still needs to be said and done but none of it seems so daunting when they're actually together. It's been a few silent minutes but he hasn't let go of her arm- almost can't let go. Has her skin always been so soft?

"Tony," she almost whispers, his name sounding so perfect on her lips. "what are you doing here?"

Tony smiles. He's actually quite scared of how much he likes the sound of her voice. It's not healthy to be so thoroughly in love with a voice. And it doesn't make sense because she's using the same vocal chords and muscles as everyone else and yet she's doing it _so well_. He's not sure how or if she's even aware but every time she speaks, even if it's to yell at him, Tony memorizes the sound. He's yet to hear a single word come out of her mouth that doesn't sound...right. Even if the word is wrong.

"Why do you think? He finally replies once he's finished admiring _everything _about her. "This is the best coffee in France." He points to the proud sign in the window behind her but she doesn't turn to look; just keeps her eyes trained on him.

She missed him. Every little thing about him, even the things that drive her absolutely mad. There's been so many times wherein she's wanted to literally strangle him, but for right now she just wants to admire him. The way his lips move when he talks, the way his hair moves in the wind because he hasn't brushed it, the way his fingers are wrapped around her forearm. The tee shirt he's wearing has a deeper V than she remembers ever seeing him in before and every now and then she can't help but stare at the little tuft of hair poking through. My God, he looks good.

"Honestly, Tony, why did you come here?" Ziva asks as seriously as she can while still so distracted by his presence. She's grateful that he doesn't make another joke, that he seems to know she needs words right now not smiles.

He sighs. There are so many things he should say- needs to say. He's thinking of movie lines, quotes and even songs but none of them fit, none of them are adequate. There's a monologue on the tip of his tongue waiting to spill out but when he opens his mouth only two words tumble out.

"For you." he says, almost with a chuckle. He's immediately reminded of Somalia and how, truth serum or no, "I couldn't live without you" is the most honest statement he ever made. And his words now ring with the same level of honesty which might be why Ziva is staring at him like _that_. "I mean what other reason is there?"

Her eyes water. She's not crying, wont let herself, but she's damn near close to it. "I'm not coming back to D.C., Tony. I have resigned and that's final." she reminds him. Or maybe she's reminding herself.

"I'm not here to bring you home, Ziva." Again, he's being totally honest and it's scaring them both but nothing has ever been sweeter. She's never looked into someone's eyes and literally seen pure honesty. No one other than Tony at least. But there also something else there in his eyes...

Could it be? That's not a strictly platonic look in his eyes. That's not a "love ya" look. That's an honest "I'm in love with you" look and Ziva wonders if it's as obvious on her face as it is on his.

"Why not?" she asks questioningly, unable to look away from his eyes or raise her voice any higher.

Tony smiles. "Because this," he says, sliding his hand down her forearm. She immediately turns her palm up so his rests flush against hers. "this right here is home."


	9. They're Different Now

They can't stop. They've been together all day and can't leave. They've been talking for hours and can't end the conversation. They've taken so many twists and turns, talking about everything from the team and Abby's new puppy to finally, _finally_ discussing their original trip to Paris. They've been sitting on that street corner so long morning coffee became lunch then dinner. Soon enough they were the only ones left in the restaurant besides the staff. And they're still talking.

"I'm terribly sorry but we're closing soon." a waitress says softly, clearly trying not to sound like she was kicking them out even though she was. "Would you like something to take home?"

He lets go. He's barely let go of her all night. They'd alternated between holding hands and forearms across the the table all day- only letting go when they moved to a table inside for dinner. But even then Tony had his hand on the small of her back. He does the same when they leave and she doesn't say anything. It feels too nice to slap his hand away. But once their outside she reaches behind her to pull his hand away. He won't let go though and insists on holding her. She smiles to herself as he just grabs her hand, holding it against his.

It's cold. Or at least that's the excuse Ziva is using in order to justify walking so close to him. Tony's leading the way and she doesn't quite know where they're headed but trusts that he knows where he's going. But if not she knows how to get them back on course. She's been in Paris four days already and hasn't gotten lost.

Four days. She's been in France four days.

She leaves tomorrow.

"What's wrong? Why did you stop?" Tony asks, coming to a sudden stop beside her. She looks at him with a blank expression that reads more of fear than anything else. They've gone on an emotional collar coaster all day but nothing compares to the look on her face now.

"I'm leaving." she mumbles, running a hand through her hair. Tony asks what she means so she says it again. "I've been here four days already. I'm leaving tomorrow. I have a flight out in the morning."

It hurts again. To come so close only to still be so far away. It feels like life is slipping through their fingertips, maybe because they've stopped holding hands.

It's not fair. And it doesn't make sense. And it makes them both sad and angry. They were so damn close- they could feel it. Everything was open to them, all the possibilities were right there then they all disappeared.

They're different now. They lead two completely different lives that run on two completely different tracks. She's free, and he's happy for her, but he's not quite so free.

Or is he?

"Skip it." Tony says just as Ziva begins to pace. It's one thing to accept that their relationship wouldn't work when there was still so much to say. But they came too close for either of them to just let go.

"What? Why?"

"Why not?" Just two words, that's all it took to stop Ziva David dead in her tracks.

"But NCI..."

"Can live without me for a few days. Gibbs will understand." Tony is getting excited again. He isn't going down without a fight. "We'll take a train to Italy or Spain. Spain is always beautiful and so is Portugal. Hell we could even go to Belgium for waffles! You probably speak all those languages anyway. We'll hop on a train or rent a car. We'll road-trip our way through Europe. I almost back-packed my way around when I was in college but I think you know why that didn't work out. Or we could just stay here. I have a hotel room for the next..."

Suddenly he stops. Or, she stops him, rather. He's been rambling so much that he didn't consciously notice her take a step towards him. So it was also a surprise to find out she was close enough to kiss. But more surprising of all was that she did it.

She kisses him. She just grabs the collar of his shirt and almost violently brings her lips to his. He's too shocked to react at first but as soon as he gathers his bearings he can't get enough. Her lips are soft and smooth against his despite how roughly they're moving. It's so precise, so unlike any of the kisses they've shared before. Every twist of the tongue and grazing of their teeth is specifically designed to drive the other crazy.

And it's working. Her fists are knotted in his shirt and his hands are in her hair. They're so close together you couldn't slip a piece of paper between their hips. They pull apart after a minute and both their expressions are of pure shock and intrigue.

She can't breathe. She's literally panting in short little breaths and her cheeks and neck are red but maybe because of the hand Tony has wrapped around the base of her neck. They're frozen almost completely still for a long few seconds.

She looks up. And they lock open mouths together again.


	10. She Sees It

**Author's Note: **I'm gonna blame Beach Brain for the spottiness of these updates ;) lol

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She can't stop. Every time she tries to clear her mind of everything, tries to sleep, she's right back there outside her hotel, her hands in Tony's hair and their lips sealed together. The moments leading up to the kiss are all blurry and the moments afterward are redundant.

But that kiss. It's crystal clear in the forefront of her mind. She distinctly remembers every feeling, every flavor, every sensation and every touch. One kiss turned into something much more so quickly and for those few moments outside neither of them could even fathom the consequences.

Now they can. They want to separate hotels at the end of the night and they said goodnight but neither one slept a wink. They laid awake in separate beds, their minds stuck on each other. Ziva stared at the ceiling replaying everything for the millionth time. Tony laid in his empty bed staring out the window coming up with a game plan. Where do they go from here?

Forward?

Backward?

Nowhere?

Ziva sighs. As beautiful as last night was it didn't help them at all. It didn't answer their questions it just brought up a million more. It was every single adjective Ziva could think of; good, bad and everything in between. It was probably a mistake though. Anything that wonderful had to be terrible for them. Anything that wonderful couldn't work for David and DiNozzo. They aren't that lucky.

She pauses. The sun is rising outside her window and she still hasn't stopped thinking of all the horrible ways this is going to end. But now she pauses just long enough for a stupid little sprout of hope to bubble up inside.

Maybe...

No.

But maybe...

She can't stop. Now she's thinking of all the wonderful possibilities laid out before her. She could road-trip around Europe with Tony. She could hold his hand and kiss his lips and anything else she wanted to kiss. They could be together in every way they've always wanted but continuously denied themselves.

She sees it. Every single second of her future is playing out before her eyes as she packs up her bags. She can see them being together forever. Through horrible fights and beautiful moments. She can see him clearing out a space in his incredibly metrosexual closet for her. She can see them sharing a bed- really and honestly. She can see them arguing over how much stuff she brings with her when he asks her to move in. She can see him in a tux next to McGee at the end of the isle she walks down, cloaked in white and desperately latched onto Gibbs' arm. She can see them buying a house and turning the spare room reserved for Tony's dad or Schmeil into a nursery when she comes home from a routine doctor's appointment with big news. She can see them lying in bed, a tiny baby with her curls and his eyes between them, reminiscing about the life they lived.

She sees it. Everything is there more like memories than predictions as she checks out of her hotel and heads for the street.

Then she sees him.


	11. They Don't Hesitate

**Author's Note: **Sorry this took so long. I genuinely have no excuse. I kinda thought I'd end this thing on the last chapter but... Fuck that ending, right?

Enjoy!

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She runs to him. There isn't even a hint of hesitation or doubt in her mind as they get closer. He's standing outside her hotel with a welcoming grin, yesterdays clothes still clinging to his body. She can no longer deny the part of her that longs to cling to him as tightly as his shirt. Hell she doesn't even _want_ to deny that longing anymore. She's been denying herself for so many years it's time to give in. All this time she's been traveling and doing the things she wants, she still hasn't given in to her deepest desire.

Not anymore. She's done pretending she doesn't want- no need- him. She's done acting cool and keeping a safe distance. After a kiss like last nights, safety is no longer a concern. Now her only concern is making the most of the time they have right now.

She's actually nervous. Ziva David, nervous. It doesn't happen often but there is definitely a nervous giddy feeling in her gut. But screw it; nerves aside, Ziva just grabs him around the waist and kisses him. He must've come to the same headspace she currently occupies because he immediately grabs both sides of her face and holds her lips against his a minute longer.

He smiles wider. When they pull back she keeps her eyes closed a second before biting her lower lip. Nothing will ever trump this moment for her, and Tony loves that she's including him in it. She's absolutely free; this is Ziva David without a care in the world. And he loves it more than he's ever loved anything before. They're two idiots kissing in the street but the moment is still absolutely perfect. They don't have a plan, nothing matters. Nothing but the two of them being together.

"So where we going?" she asks. He doesn't have a plan other than loving her; so he just shrugs, pulling something akin to a giggle from her. "Well okay then, let's go."

They don't hesitate. They're in the car and ready to go in five seconds flat. Tony isn't even quite sure where he's going but he's off driving anyway. She's beside him in the passenger seat and the windows are rolled down blowing her hair all about and that's all that matters to him. They have no travel plans, no designated root, all they have is the road before them and the other beside them for miles and miles.

Signs pass. But they don't stop. They just keep driving and driving until Ziva pulls out the map, insisting they at least pull over and figure out where the hell they are. Tony picks a side street and kills the engine, peeking over her shoulder at the map. "Here I think." he says, pointing to their location. Ziva sighs, they're in the middle of nowhere. Literally.

But she's happy. Regardless of how bass ackwards they're doing this, it's fun. They're lost and in a foreign country and, at this point, probably a little too high on endorphins, but it's the best time of her life. So she looks at him for a minute then crumples up the map, tosses it in the backseats and plants a hard kiss on his lips.

"We should find a hotel, it'll get dark soon." Tony says. He pulls back onto the main road to drive a few miles before catching a sign for a nearby hotel. He just turns that way, not interrupting Ziva as she regales him of a tale from her childhood. She literally hasn't stopped talking since the engine started. She's telling him stories of her father, of her childhood, of Tali, of her mother, of her friends, everything. They're happy stories intertwined with stories that leave tear stains on her cheeks. But not once doesn't she stop.

She's safe here. There's nothing wrong with crying in front of Tony, she knows that. He just brushes the back of his hand down her cheek, collecting the tears she's not ashamed to shed. She tosses her feet into his lap, sitting horizontal across the bench-seat, playing with one of her curls. She feels like the little girl from her stories again. Innocent in a way, completely free and in love. It's okay to feel this way. She knows he feels it to.

They're laughing. They're laughing so hard. He nearly crashes on more than one occasion because he can't see through his squinted laughing eyes. They're laughing so hard and they're holding hands. Suddenly Tony's happy the rental place only had old cars available because the bench-seat gives her the opportunity to scoot as close to him as possible and loop an arm around his shoulder, kissing his neck as he tries not to swerve off the road.

It's perfect. Everything about right now is perfect for them both. They don't want it to end. This moment could last them forever if they try hard enough. So even when Tony pulls over and they have to get out of the car, she scoots out his side, a hand in his the whole time. So that way, even when he goes back to DC, she'll still have the feel of him memorized.


End file.
